Yours, Forever
by beaute-ephemere
Summary: "Good girl," Tom commended. "We're not so different, you and I." / Written for Round 2 of the Houses Competition Year 2


**House : Slytherin**

 **Category : Short**

 **Prompt : Potion Vial**

 **Word Count : 857**

 **A/N: The italicised speech is when Ginny and Tom interact. I am imagining that she isn't just talking out loud by herself, rather she and Tom have vivid conversations, but only in Ginny's mind .**

When Ginny Weasley was eleven, she'd poured her soul out to Tom Marvolo Riddle, and in return, he'd given her some of his. The diary had long since been destroyed, but even Dumbledore couldn't quite get Tom Riddle out of her mind.

It was rarely more than a whisper, a voice inside her head, a snide comment when one of her classmates said something particularly idiotic, but she could tell it was him.

One day in her third year, she sat down on her bed, stared at the wall, and thought " _Get out!_ " as loud as she could. He laughed at her and told her he'd leave as soon as he was no longer welcome. Infuriated, she told him he was e _xtremely_ unwelcome, and that, if he hadn't bloody understood, she was trying to get him to leave, thank you very much.

" _You're not trying very hard,"_ he commented.

" _I am! I don't want anything to do with you! You're horrible and mean and–"_ Ginny screamed.

" _Evil? Trust me, I am no more evil than you. I know your deepest, darkest thoughts, remember?"_

" _No! I'm nothing like you!_ "

" _Few things are black or white, Ginevra. We live in a world of grey, where everything is just means to an end._ "

" _That's not true! You're - you're cruel!"_

" _You can lie to other people, you can lie to yourself, but you can never lie to me. I know you, Ginevra Weasley, and I promise you we're just the same._ "

Ginny took a cold shower afterwards, trying to wash away the feel of him, but he was everywhere. He had taken up residence in her head, and like some kind of fungus, he was spreading across her body, puckering her flesh and rotting her soul, and she hated it.

From that day forwards, Ginny ignored Tom. Occasionally, he'd talk to her, but she'd ignore him, attempting to shut him out once and for all. That is, until she forgot her scarf in a D.A. meeting, and upon returning to grab it, she walked in on Harry with his tongue halfway down Cho Chang's throat.

" _That looks unpleasant,"_ a familiar voice commented, and she couldn't help but agree.

She walked back to her dorm, locked herself in the bathroom, and began firing hexes at the wall in a desperate but futile attempt to release some anger. Tom watched on in amusement, and when Ginny finally sunk to the ground, exhausted and distraught, he finally spoke.

" _You can have him, you know. I'd help, if you'd like,"_ he murmured.

Ginny didn't answer him. It was an offer laced with danger, and yet so tempting. In the end, hours later, she whispered " _How?_ " to her empty dorm room, and she could _feel_ Tom's smugness.

She couldn't believe how simple it was. Tom told her the ingredients she needed, and she broke into Snape's private store with unsettling ease. She brewed the potion in the dead of night, by the light of the moon, in an abandoned classroom on the ninth floor.

It took her months, but when she was finally finished, Tom congratulated her, and she hated how pleased with herself she was. A few weeks later, Harry invited her for butterbeers at The Three Broomsticks. Hope blossomed in her chest: perhaps she wouldn't need to use the potion after all. Tom gave a harsh, derisive laugh. " _Take the vial with you,_ " he advised.

She crossed her arms, telling him she wouldn't need it, nevertheless slipping the potion into her coat pocket. " _Just in case,"_ she thought.

It turned out Harry merely wanted to talk about how miserable Hermione and Ron were, and how difficult it was for him. Ginny smiled politely, nodding in all the right places. "You're such an amazing friend, Gin. Excuse me, I'll be right back," he said, getting up to go to the bathroom.

As soon as he was gone, Tom's mocking voice sounded in her head. " _Convinced of his entirely platonic feelings yet? His drink is right there, Ginevra. Hurry up before he returns._ "

She gingerly removed the vial from her pocket. The love potion was dark green, almost black, the color of pure evil– this wasn't Fred and George's Beguiling Bubbles, or even Amortentia. No, this was something so, so much worse. Ginny saw her reflection in the vial, and she thought she could see Tom's condescending sneer reflected in her eyes. She began to panic. " _No! I can't do it. I'm not -_ "

" _Spare me, Ginevra. We've been through this before, and I have no desire to do so again. Stop your holier-than-thou fanfaronade, and slip him the potion. Remember, in life there are only those who have power and those too weak to seize it._ "

Ginny tried to fight him, she truly did, but to no avail. Before she knew it, her hand was unstoppering the bottle, and just as the bathroom door opened, she tipped the contents of the vial into Harry's drink. She let the vial fall to the ground, and she crushed it under her heel as Harry sat down.

" _Good girl,_ " Tom commended. " _We're not so different, you and I._ "


End file.
